


I Would Have Kissed You Like That

by Pambot3000, Voodoosgirl



Series: The Bendy Boys [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bottom Bucky Barnes implied, Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Embedded Images, Fanart, Fluff, Good Boyfriend Steve Rogers, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Recovery, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-02-29 07:16:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18773857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pambot3000/pseuds/Pambot3000, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voodoosgirl/pseuds/Voodoosgirl
Summary: Bucky and Steve fill in the gaps; memories, history, missing pieces for two men out of time. There are days that it's painful; this night, it's soft.





	I Would Have Kissed You Like That

**Author's Note:**

> Pambot3000 does these amazing poses with The Bendy Boys TM and she sent the one in this story about six weeks ago. I posted it on Tumblr and visit it often to lift my spirits and decided to write a little story to go with it. 
> 
> It was meant to be funny, light, silly. It turned out a bit more angsty/smutty than originally intended. LOL
> 
> This is part of my Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019 fill "Take the Shot" B3 square
> 
> For Pambot3000 who inspires me always.❤️️

Steve nestling, chin to Bucky’s shoulder, purposeful nuzzling cascade of brown hair. Breathing deep, eyes closed, memory embracing his scent, body’s pressured feel against flesh. Their fit a comfort, words not needed, back to chest, thigh to thigh; bearded cheek playful raking smoothed skin. Steve holding cherished tight gripping what he’d lost, never letting go. A hand claiming a metal palm, a thumb’s warmth taking a wrist, heartbeats matching, lips drawn to press delicate against life pulsed at a throat real and undeniable.

 

Computer screen casting its glow; bright to dark, blue-white flowing amber and back again. Flickering shadows spilled across two faces rapt attention on images sliding past. Steve sitting in the bed, wrapping Bucky possessive tucked between his legs, the laptop balanced precarious on bare legs entangled. Filling in their memories.

 

Bucky dutiful clicking through history, searching for a glimmer of peace, reconciling his past, fragmented and shadowed. A task done minute by minute, cut short when overwhelmed, each session getting easier cradled in Steve’s arms. Peace and war, past and present, hard facts stirring the shame, choking a breath, teasing cold sweat, chased away by words whispered heated reassuring, “It’s over now. We’ve got a new beginning.”

 

Steve knowing every tic and twitch of Bucky’s skin, the tell of his pain taking the space between them. Firm words, gently spoken, “Time’s up, Buck, done for now.” One last image scrolling past on the screen, a sailor kissing a nurse, subscript telling the story. Times Square August 15th, 1945, the end of World War II a photo declared famous. Both sitting silent watching the moment neither could recall except through faded images archived on a screen; reproduced in untold numbers to hang obscured in a storefront’s garish sales rack.

 

Electric light soft falling on Bucky’s face, Steve watching the smile hinted at first, grow confident to playful, telling a plan. His question a whispered breath tickling an ear, “What? What’s that smile?”

 

Bucky shrugging reluctant, falling into his place, not asking for needs or wants to be met. His quiet hard to read, Steve left wondering most days, searching features for an answer; does history hold him hostage or is he content?

 

Steve lifting Bucky’s face avoiding his gaze, finger tracing a mouth bearing witness to his taking, red-hued lip's swell curving to a smile, driving an ache deep to his heart. An ask rasped soulful sincere “What is it? Tell me. What do you want? Anything.” Grey eyes known for a lifetime, pain’s linger barely hidden, drawing him in, forehead pressed to temple, mouth brushed to lashes, finding the warmth of a cheek. Waiting for his answer.

 

Time passing long, Bucky shifting in his arms, words soft-spoken teasing heat against lips parted expectant, “I would have kissed you like that if we were there. If times were different. If there was no fall, no ice, no fate keeping us apart. I would have kissed you like that, right there in Times Square.”

 

Heartbeat’s bound flushing pink skin mottled red at Bucky’s truth. Steve holding body’s rush to take that kiss; hand catching his neck, fingers tangled own of long hair. Want suspended tense to linger in watching his look; that one, those eyes telling all he ever needed to know. Bucky here and now, real and grounding, wrapped possessive by his body’s embrace.

 

“Kiss me like that now,” Steve’s voice deep-seated, breath stumbling over words spoken raw, pale in the shadow of his heart, “Like we would have then, for all the world to see and no one cares. Our wars are done, it’s you and me. Us, together. Kiss me like that now.”

 

Mouth’s tenuous press at first, comforting familiar, a breath’s separation, foreheads touch, an ask whispered, “Permission?” Bucky’s murmured “Yes.” Steve venturing deeper, tip of tongue daring to taste Bucky’s mouth, taking what he knew was his. Hands finding muscled flesh, lovers caress of intimate skin, dips and curves, bracing hard bone, tender twitch under finger’s toying exploration. Metal and sinew strength a willing offer for Steve’s taking; body lifted feather-light to lie beneath his weight.

 

Bucky claiming Steve, arms encircled owning, legs catching thighs, rhythmic urgent reminder; mouth’s open reach, pulling him in, finding their kiss. Words kept internal, taken captive by his past; flesh telling of his want, hips rise to meet Steve’s filling. Tongue laving hungered seeking his mouth. Message clear told by his body’s desperate grip; grateful to be found, safe in his arms, love not spoken aloud but a breath moaned aching buried deep in their embrace. 

 

Steve’s foot sliding the laptop aside to nest against the wall, blue-white glow ambient light casting shadows across sweat-sheened skin. 

 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

 

EPILOGUE: A frigid, wind-swept Sunday morning 3:33 am, Sam landing the quinjet in the middle of Times Square, the Boys scrambling out, followed by Natasha, her phone in her hand. The early morning commuters typical New Yorkers, never looking up from hurried steps, shoulders tucked against the wind. Not much taking them by surprise. The NYPD mounted officer sitting impervious, his dark bay steed, one back foot cocked placid; a testament to both man and horse having seen pretty much everything under sun and stars.

 

Steve facing Bucky in the middle of the Square, an arm wrapping tight possessive around his neck, a hand encircling his waist. “Ready?”

 

Bucky’s nod flirting shy, his smile an echo across time, free and smirking and wide, taking Steve’s breath as he dipped him into the pose. His answer whispered warm against Steve’s mouth, “Kiss me like that.”

 

Natasha taking the shot. It appears on the Instagram account of one, Gieta Sokolov claiming to be a Black Widow, it was up long enough for it to get six thousand hearts before the entire account was deleted. But not before it was texted to Steve’s phone. 

 

  

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

>  V-J Day in Times Square (also V-Day and The Kiss) Victory over Japan Day was August 14, 1945. A photograph by Alfred Eisenstaedt that portrays a U.S. Navy sailor grabbing and kissing a stranger. An American sailor George Mendonsa kisses Greta Zimmer Friedman in Times Square on Aug. 14, 1945.  
> None of them knew they had just been photographed by Eisenstaedt, that their picture was about to be published in Life magazine, or that, decades later, multiple men and women would come forward claiming to be that sailor and that nurse.


End file.
